


Return to Yesterday

by mia kulpah (nina_monk)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: M/M, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Pre-Relationship, Science Bros Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/mia%20kulpah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Civil War, Rhodey calls additional reinforcements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return to Yesterday

“How’re you feeling?”

Shocked, Jim whipped around and did a comical double-take. If he hadn’t become quite the expert with the cane keeping him steady, he probably would’ve gracelessly face-planted on the carpet.

He licked his lips. He hadn’t heard Banner enter the room, which was unusual; his hearing was as good as a hawk’s and he hadn’t expected such a fast response. But Banner, well…he was Omega-level quiet.

“I _just_ texted you yesterd–”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Jim laughed. “Figures. You were watching all along, weren’t you, waiting for the coast to clear.” His smile faded a little, and he hobbled to a comfortable chair, gesturing to the doctor to join him in the guest waiting room. Really, it was Banner’s place too, but Jim could tell from the doctor’s unease that offering him any other place of comfort could make him rabbit. Again. In fact, judging from Banner’s expression, Jim knew the scientist was continually weighing whether or not returning was a good idea.

Banner switched the duffel in his hands awkwardly and sat perched on a chair’s edge, poised to bolt. But Jim waited him out. Then, after a few tense minutes Banner sat back in the chair but cautiously, as if on high alert. Well. As alert as they all were, now.

“Challenged,” Jim mumbled after a protracted sigh. “I feel _challenged_ , Bruce. These–” and he tapped the braces on his legs “–work in the interim. But it’s not like I’m gonna run a marathon any time soon.” Maybe not ever, was the unspoken phrase, but neither of them called attention to it. Jim wasn’t about to, and anyway that was a conversation for another day.

“I’m surviving. I’m making it.” A wry grin made it to his face. “It is what it is, and I’ll get better.”

Banner eyed him carefully. “Do you have regular care?”

He shrugged. “As much as I can,” he said, hiding a sigh. “Twice a week Tony flies someone in from the RIC for my PT - which I appreciate - but y'know, it’s Tony. I could’ve just as well gone by the local VA but he has to do it up big, like always.”

“Yeah.”

Banner was funny, sometimes. Jim enjoyed his quiet nature, and had long gotten over the Big Green situation. But sometimes he just had this look. Jim figured of the entire team, only Tony understood those hooded expressions.

He stared at him that way, now, and Jim finally reasoned it through; Banner’s look reminded him of an owl searching for its dinner: Slow. Determined. Methodical. Curious. It dawned on him, that Banner had nearly come to a conclusion, but maybe had one last hypothesis to prove.

“How…” Banner swallowed, frowned, and removed his glasses. He looked down, patiently removed a cloth from his jacket pocket, and systematically cleaned his spectacles. But he didn’t look at Jim. “How is he?”

Jim waited until Banner finally glanced his way and he didn’t break eye contact. “Two-man job. Bruce, I wouldn’t’ve contacted you, if the news was good.”

He grunted and solemnly perched his glasses on his nose. Like a college professors of old. “I know. But I’d hoped–”

Jim held up a hand. “He’s not drunk off his ass, that’s not what I meant. But he’s low, Bruce. Motherhenning me helps, I think, but he’s stretched too thin. He’s in the middle of a high wire act, and he’s got a pair of bolt cutters in one hand, and an acetylene torch in the other. Just a question of when, and how.”

“Ah. I see.”

Jim turned the tables, mirroring his same wise old owl look. “I wonder if you do.”

Banner swallowed, and worked the duffel’s strap. “Is he…”

Jim shook his head. “He’s in his room, not the lab.”

Banner nodded, hesitated, then stood and headed for Tony’s bedroom on the other side of the bunker. Jim waited until he was nearly out before lowering the boom. “Bruce. He hasn’t been in the lab for over a month.”

**

 _Tony_ , Bruce thought. His steps struck the polished floors, echoing Tony’s name with each soft footfall. He used the echo of Tony’s name to focus his thoughts, to bring clarity. To balance the insanity. He hadn’t wanted to return; he’d let down everyone, abandoned the team in their time of need, left Natasha–

He swallowed. He wasn’t sure if she’d understand. Not the running away, part. He guessed she knew she’d pushed him a hairsbreadth too far, there - she’d probably forgive him for that. But the reason why he returned…? That was an entirely different matter.

Bruce cleared his throat, finding himself very suddenly on the other side of Tony’s door. He stared at it, for maybe a minute or more, thinking through everything he’d said or done in the weeks before Ultron’s creation. He’d told Tony he was interested, sure, but there was Pepper, wasn’t there? And the lullaby was working. And he and Natasha–well, nothing yet, but surely?

Maybe.

Maybe was what cinched it, the moment Tony and Pepper’s breakup announcement hit the tabloids.

Which was the only reason he returned to Manhattan, if he were painfully, brutally honest with himself.

“Tony?” Bruce jumped; he didn’t expect to be so brave, to say his name out loud.

Unbidden, Bruce felt his fingers knock the door on their own. “Tony? You in there?”

Silence.

A wave of fear battled his reluctance, and his fingers shook as he turned the knob. The door wasn’t locked, but why should it be, with only Tony and his best friend in this empty, vacuous mausoleum?

The door creaked open, and Bruce stuck in his head. Maybe, he thought, after taking a lingering glance around, that seeing his worse fears would’ve been better because Tony bleeding out? He could handle that. But this…

Tony had on headphones - _mine_ , Bruce thought with a quiet reverence - but his bed and floor were covered in tech parts and grease. As if he had taken apart several things and put them together over, and over, and over again. Nothing coherent. Nothing balanced. No finished projects. No recognizable parts. Just pieces. With oil and grease splattering the floor in teardrop patterns.

“I’ll eat in a minute, Rhodey,” Tony muttered. Apparently the headphones only canceled so much noise - either that, or he’d caught Bruce’s shadow looming over the bed. “Just gotta…figure this out. Doesn’t make sense.”

“It won’t,” Bruce said quietly. “You’re missing too many pieces.”

Tony had been using a screwdriver to tighten a bolt on something–a helmet? Shin guard? Another robot?–and his hands suddenly froze. Bruce saw a brief tremor in Tony’s fingers, before he slowly removed the headphones and continued tightening the bolt.

“You’re back,” he said simply. No preamble, no fanfare. Flat-toned. In other words, he wasn’t necessarily unwelcome, but he still wasn’t allowed to come into the house.

“I am,” Bruce rumbled. He toed a metal rod and used his foot to clear a path from the debris. “Rhodey texted me, before you ask.”

“Oh?” Tony threw down his screwdriver with a loud clatter and yanked a wrench from the floor. He still didn’t look at him. “When?”

“A week or so ago,” Bruce lied. It shouldn’t have mattered if he lied or not, but somehow…he didn’t want to seem so desperate.

But something in his voice must’ve given away the truth, because a corner of Tony’s lip quivered. It was almost a smirk, and almost was close enough. “So, what, you here for good?”

 _In for a penny_ , Bruce thought. “I don’t know. ‘For good’ is a long time. And Ross–”

“Isn’t here,” Tony said solemnly. “Not allowed here, ever again.”

“You can’t make that promise, Tony.”

“Can’t I?” He shot back, petulantly. “It’s my place.”

“He’s Secretary of State.”

“And the President of the United States loves me best. So?”

Bruce almost rolled his eyes. “You’re filthy and delirious,” he said, and it was true; Tony’s eye circles were only partially from the grease on his smudged fingers. He’d been awake for days, Bruce could tell. Part of the damage he’d taken from the fight with Steve and Barnes - Bruce fought down the growing rage at the pair - still dotted Tony’s cheeks with heavy gray bruising. But truthfully, Tony’s cheeks and eyes were mostly black from sleepless, possibly painful nights.

“You can’t take care of Rhodes like this. You’re not even taking care of yourself.”

Tony sighed and threw down the wrench. “Shut up, Mom.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Tony’s throat bobbed. “That’s entirely up to you. What I say doesn’t–”

“Do you. Want. Me. To stay.”

His voice lowered two octaves, emphasizing the tired rustiness in his voice. “Nat may drop by. You can talk to her. I have her burner phone.”

Bruce approached, found a spot on the bed with the least amount of filth, and carefully sat down. “I didn’t return for her, Tony.” He tentatively reached. His heart hammered in his throat and he expected the Hulk to burst forth at any time. So he had to be brave. He had to be quick.

Bruce brushed his fingers across Tony’s hand, and Tony stared down. But Bruce kept his eyes on Tony’s face, watching as a nervous tic bounced across his cheek and a thin tear spilled from his thick lashes, dampening the dirty comforter. And he couldn’t help the next words that tumbled from his lips, especially when he realized his cheeks felt wet, too.

“I choose you, Pikachu.”

“Oh my God.” Tony half laughed, half-choked and wiped any remaining tears off his cheek. “You did not just quote me a kids cartoon. You did. Not.”

“It’s everyone’s phenomenon now,” Bruce said pertly. “Pokemon Go. It’s a thing.”

“I know it’s a thing, you idiot.” But it was a soft retort. A very, very soft and quiet retort. One that began warming Bruce’s heart in ways he didn’t expect. “We worried about car crashes. Now we’re worried about the next skateboarder slamming into us, 'cause they thought they saw Charmander in the bushes.”

Bruce began smiling. Well, it was a start. And he didn’t get a no. His fingers curled around Tony’s and Tony gripped his fingers in a ferocious grip. Well. They had exchanged offerings, and maybe that was enough. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> So, @sciencebrosweek2016 has begun, and this is my little late entry to the first prompt: Yesterday. It's actually something I had going on in my mind for a while as an OT3 possibility. We'll see how that goes.


End file.
